Lothar's Birthday
by Harebelle
Summary: Set shortly after the events of the Warcraft movie, Anduin Lothar is coping poorly with the strain from his personal grief and the war. His friend Khadgar and his sister Taria are there for him. Hints of Liontrust, but it's open to interpretation.


_**Author's notes**: Set shortly after the events of the Warcraft film, so beware spoilers. **Feedback is always appreciated.**_

_**Themes****: **sadness, grief, cute sleepy stuff, friendship, siblings, Khadgar continues to be precious._

_Apologies for any inaccuracies, as I'm not very familiar with the lore or game, I just wanted to write a short character piece about Lothar being helped by Khadgar and Taria to deal with the seriously dark things he went through in the film. This isn't a ship fic specifically, but liontrust is forever._

__**Lothar's Birthday**__

Anduin Lothar couldn't sleep. Not after that damn nightmare.

_His trusting sister, gifting the dagger to Garona._

_The ornate dagger hilt, protruding from Llane's neck._

_The screams of men, orcs and prisoners on the battlefield. The blood._

_Medivh._

_Taria's tears for her fallen husband and king. The betrayal._

_Callan's body. Callan._

He paced his bedchamber, reliving the events of the nightmare while simultaneously going over the war plans of the day, eventually stubbing a toe on his dresser.

'Damn it all,' he muttered. Damn these orcs and this war. The long hours of planning tactics and navigating politics, the visits to the battlefield hospitals, seeing the faces of his injured men and women. The ever-present ache of loss for his son.

He decided that a change of scenery was needed if sleep wasn't an option. He found his discarded clothing from the day and changed into it in the darkness, pulling on his boots as he left the room and entered the quiet corridor. The guard at the end of the hall nodded respectfully and stood to attention, despite looking as exhausted as Lothar felt.

'Evenin', soldier,' he patted the man on the shoulder as he passed. 'I'm just getting some air.'

Lothar didn't have a plan of where to go in the keep, but his feet took him back to the smaller war council room where he has spent much of the day. Something tugged at his memory of the day, something he hadn't resolved. The mage. Khadgar had been waiting for him outside the council room in the afternoon, and he had been waving a tattered scroll and mumbling something about tea as Lothar had stalked from the infuriating meeting straight to the barracks.

Now that he thought about it, he had agreed to have lunch with the mage, but had neglected to inform him that lunch was postponed due to an early arrival of a Dwarven military commander he had agreed to meet with. He recalled his blunt dismissal of the lad and the way Khadgar had quietly nodded, rolled up his scroll and walked away, forgotten until this late hour. Lothar ran a hand through his long hair, feeling ashamed at how he had treated an important ally and friend. He would have to apologise first thing in the morning, before a sea of duties pulled him into five directions at once.

As he passed the library, his eyes were drawn to the unlocked doors standing open a fraction and the flickering light from within. His first thought was of his scholarly ally, as he had rarely even noticed that the library existed until Khadgar had entered his life, bringing a constant presence of books and scrolls with him.

He vaguely recalled an old adage about opportunities to right wrongs presenting themselves at the right time and sighed, pulling the doors open and entering the library.

The light was coming from a small lantern at a desk in the corner of the room. The desk was heaped with books, scrolls, sheets of parchment and ink wells, and sleeping slumped over it all was Khadgar, a quill still loosely held in his hand. As Lothar padded across the plush carpet to the mage, he examined the work on the desk. It looked as though his friend had been copying or practising drawing glyphs from a huge book propped open before him. Lothar couldn't make sense of any of them and let his eyes wander over some of the sheets of parchment. He noticed a drawing with more detail than the others poking out from under Khadgar's arm and gently pulled it out, without disturbing the mage.

It was a detailed drawing of the half-orc Garona. Khadgar has perfectly captured her determined jaw line, the way she held herself, both confident and unsure at the same time. Her eyes gazed from the page at Lothar and he felt a wave of loss, before having to fight an urge to crush the sheet, to shred it and burn it and yell at Khadgar for such a loving rendition of the traitor. He took a deep breath to calm himself and tucked the drawing back under the others, then grabbed a chair from a neighbouring desk, sitting beside the younger man. He reminded himself he was here to apologise; he wouldn't mention the drawing.

'Khadgar,' he spoke clearly.

Khadgar stirred, but didn't fully wake. 'I'm being careful with my lantern, Mrs Pendragon.'

'I'm not the librarian, kid,' he smiled and shook the mage's shoulder.

Khadgar sat up and blinked at him, with both a smudge of blue ink and confused expression on his face. It was hard to believe this was their new Guardian in training. He recognised Lothar and straightened in his seat, blushing with embarrassment. 'Commander. Good evening, Lothar.'

'I think it's technically morning, bookworm.'

'Right,' Khadgar yawned.

'Didn't anyone tell you the library is out of bounds after hours?' Lothar teased.

'I can stay and work as long as I like, but the librarian made me promise not to burn down the place by mistake like that novice almost did recently,' he gestured with the quill at the shallow bowl of water the lantern was resting in.

'Sensible. Old Pendragon has the look of a gryphon on a battlefield whenever I see her. What did you want to talk about earlier? After my council meeting?'

'That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Battlefields, I mean. I can see how stressed you are with this constant war, on top of... what's already happened. You and your soldiers have so much stress, so I was researching ways to help with mental recovery. I've watched some soldiers, and I haven't seen anyone meditate on their free time.'

Lothar considered a remark about spellcasters having the free time to sit around daydreaming, but fought it back.

'I found a recipe scroll for a tea invented by a Night Elf monk. She was a respected healer in her time who wanted to help her people. Some of the ingredients are magical, grown or imbued with peace in mind, but I've researched them and I think we can order them all in from various sources,' he tapped a handwritten list with pricing estimates written beside each item.

'It's not meant to make you forget about Callan,' he looked down quickly as he mentioned Lothar's son, 'or numb your emotions like alcohol does. It's specifically designed to help the drinker feel like they can, uh cope with things. Not be so overwhelmed,' the mage looked earnestly at the knight, who didn't respond. Flustered, he continued, 'that's what the text says anyway. And I think you and your soldiers would be more comfortable with tea than trying meditation or anything like that...' he trailed off.

'Is that how you cope? Did they teach you to meditate when you took your vows?'

'Yes, actually. I also draw and study to calm my thoughts,' the mage eyes drifted to the location of his Garona sketch, its corner poking out from under piles of loose pages. Lothar watched him try to subtly nudge it from view. 'Whenever I see you, so look really sad and frustrated. I want to help you.'

Lothar looked at him for long moment. 'I haven't asked for any help.'

'When we fought Medivh, you said you were proud of me. I haven't really done anything tangible- anything _real_ that can help you since then.'

'I disagree. I see the reports about how you're working with our tacticians, planning where to place wards and battle spells. I'm not such an armour-head that I think a war is just about fighting with swords,' he nodded toward all the work on the desk. 'I'll talk with my quartermaster about the cost of ingredients and we'll order them to make that tea. I'll have my troops try it.'

'Will you try it?'

'Yeah. It sounds like I could use it.' The mage look so happy that Lothar couldn't help himself from ruffling Khadgar's hair before leaning back in his chair. 'I want to apologise for ignoring you earlier and missing our lunch. I've been an ass.'

'You've been fighting a war.'

'I don't have to mistreat my friends to do that, though.'

Khadgar's eyes widened slightly at the word 'friends'

The knight continued, 'I also never apologised for how I treated you when we first met.'

'Okay, yeah you were an ass then,' the mage laughed. 'Thank you, it's okay.'

They sat quietly for a few moments, and Lothar let his thoughts wander as he looked around the room, trying to make out the titles of books on the nearest shelves in the dim light. Khadgar made him jump by speaking suddenly.

'Seeing as it's already tomorrow, I can give you your birthday present,' the mage smiled at him, nodding toward the giant hour glass on the far side of the library.

Lothar had completely forgotten that it was his birthday. He leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows at Khadgar. They hadn't known each other for very long, and he had never mentioned his birthday, so Taria must have told the mage. Lothar felt more guilt for being a lousy friend.

Their corner of the library briefly lit up with the summoning magic, and Khadgar was holding a large sheet of parchment in his hands. 'I've commissioned a frame from a craftself, but it isn't ready yet. Uh, so here you go,' he turned the sheet over and carefully placed it on the desk before the knight.

It was another drawing. Lothar stared down at it, unable to speak or even think clear thoughts through the surging emotions. It was a drawing of his Callan. His son. Callan looked so real, he could almost step out from the lines of ink to be here, to be alive again.

Lothar was aware of the mage saying something beside him, but his heart was beating too fast and loud to hear a word. He reached out and pulled Khadgar half from his seat and into his chest, in a fierce and grateful hug. When Lothar let go, he quickly wiped a sleeve across his eyes and stood, turning from the mage and looking across the dark library.

'Thank you,' he said quietly.

'You're welcome. I only met Callan a few times, but I'm good at remembering faces.'

'You did a great job,' he tried to sound normal. 'Say, let's get some food, yeah? I'll just drop this off in my room,' he turned back to the desk and gently rolled up the drawing, without looking up and showing his face.

'Okay, I can't remember the last time I ate,' Khadgar rose, yawning and stretching before pulling on his cloak. He shuffled the sheets of parchment together into a tidy pile, capped the inkwells and closed the giant book, resting his quill on the cover. The mage waved a hand and muttered a spell that vanished all of his work, presumably back to his room. 'Wait. I probably shouldn't have teleported the ink wells. Last time, one tipped all over a library book.'

'If I see Mrs Pendragon breathing fire later, I'll know why,' Lothar chuckled.

The younger man laughed. 'She's the scariest!' he picked up the flickering lantern from the bowl and wiped the water from the underside with the hem of his cloak, blowing out the flame and yawning again.

They left the library, Khadgar locking the doors behind them with his personal copy of the key. Lothar led the way to the soldiers' wing, greeting the guard again as they passed and held the door open to his bedchamber. 'While you're here, I have a letter from a Night Elf; it had some symbols on it that looked like they were right out of that book you were working from. Could you take a look at it for me?'

Khadgar nodded from where he stood in the middle of the floor, looking for a seat, as the only chair was heaped with Lothar's discarded clothing and three empty mead bottles poking out at different levels.

'Uh, you'll have to sit on the bed,' Lothar said, glancing around the small room. He was entitled to a Commander's quarters and there was such a room available, but he didn't like to feel so separate from his troops, so he had opted for a normal long-term soldier's bedchamber.

He carefully placed the drawing of Callan in a drawer and rummaged around for the Elf's letter, while the mage sat watching him from the end of the bed.

'You've got ink on your face, kid,' he said over his shoulder.

'Okay,' Khadgar blinked, half asleep.

Lothar sighed. 'Forget the letter, let's just eat now. I'll just ask my guard to send for some breakfast,' he shut the drawer. 'You'll like what they cook up for me. Wild emperor salmon with poached eggs sound good?'

He trotted out to the corridor, hailing the guard and asking him to send for two of his favourite breakfasts to be delivered to his chamber. The guard saluted and strode away. Lothar started to head back to his room when he heard the guard greet someone further along the hall. He turned and saw his sister, Queen Taria walking toward him with something in her arms. Despite the early hour, her dark hair was perfectly made and she looked as regal as ever.

'For you, my brother.'

Taria was holding a huge ornate basket covered with a silk cloth. The basket itself looked expensive, as it had golden threads woven amongst the wicker and shone like the sun, so he could only guess at the contents. He folded back the cloth, revealing a rainbow of colours.

'Fruit? I appreciate them Taria, though this is breaking your tradition of giving lavish presents.'

'Oh, well your main present is Dwarf-forged personalised armour for your gryphon, so I'm still the same old me,' she grinned up at him, placing the basket on a wide brimmed decorative vase in the corridor. 'The fruit is imported from far and wide. I want you to eat some with every meal. These ones are incredible,' she plucked something like a blue plum from the basket and popped it in her mouth. 'Here, try one,' she handed him one of the surprisingly cold plums, which did taste great.

'I was hoping this would be a surprise for when you got up, but you're already awake,' her expression became concerned. 'You aren't sleeping well, are you?'

'I could ask the same of you, sister.'

'I'm not. This war is horrible,' she looked into the distance for a moment, the grief just starting to show before she slammed it away and smiled determinedly. 'But I keep busy and keep positive for our people. And for you. Happy birthday! I'll put these on your dresser,' she took the basket and brushed past him into the bedchamber. 'Oh! I didn't know you had company, I'll- is that Khadgar? I didn't realise you two were-' she blushed and stepped back out of the room.

'We're not!' Lothar quickly took the basket and placed it on the dresser, glancing at the mage who had fallen asleep on his bed. 'One moment,' he unfastened Khadgar's cloak, lifting the younger man slightly to remove it and drape it over the bed post, then pulled off his shoes. Lothar left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

'Are you _sure_? Because that looked quite endearing. And he has that cute little moustache,' she grinned her annoying-sister grin.

'We were only talking, sis,' he lightly shoved her. 'He's putting a lot into this war, too. He's trying to help my soldiers in ways I hadn't even considered. I hadn't realised how much of a friend he was until tonight. You know, he thought up some magic tea to help me feel better, but doesn't realise he's already doing that just by being himself. I'm sounding sappy, I know.'

Taria beamed at him. 'I'm so glad you're opening up again. I've been worried about you,' she rested a hand on his face. 'You've been a blur. All those meetings and councils and visits. You don't have to command alone. Ah, I shouldn't lecture you on your birthday.'

'I recall a lengthy lecture on my fourteenth birthday, when Llane and I chased that dire boar.'

'You were so stupid! It's a miracle Llane was okay!'

They both laughed, remembering the good times and years before all the death and loss. They looked up at the sound of a polite voice.

'I have two breakfasts as you requested, sir, I mean Commander sir, and your Majesty, ma'am,' said a young kitchen assistant. Her uniform and plait were slightly white with flour and she looked terrified to be before them.

'Thank you, dear,' Taria smiled reassuringly at the girl, who nervously smiled back.

'Thanks, kid,' Lothar took the tray from the assistant with a nod and she hurried back to the kitchens.

'That smells amazing,' his sister commented. 'Are you and Khadgar having salmon?'

'You're welcome to it. Let's let the kid sleep, he's been studying all night. You and I can catch up over this breakfast in the sun room.'

'That sounds lovely.'

As he walked beside his sister, Lothar thought about his life. He had told Medivh that he had nothing left to live for after Callan died, and he had meant it. But that wasn't true, he saw that now. He had his sister and he had Khadgar. He had his soldiers and people looking up to him.

He would make some time to focus on himself and his own happiness. He would try out the gryphon armour and go for a flight later. Maybe he'd take Khadgar along, get him more confident in the air.

So far, it had been a good birthday.

End.

_I hope you liked this!  
I didn't go for a clear ship story, as I'm not sure how I want my versions of Lothar and Khadgar to relate to each other. I think I like them as fire-forged friends. _

_I may write a few chapters about Garona and what's up with her life after the end of the film, or maybe about Queen Taria.  
**Story suggestions are welcome!**_


End file.
